


The Bad Decision

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Begging Dean Winchester, Dark, Drugged Dean Winchester, Forced Lactation, Forced Orgasm, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Injections, Omega Dean Winchester, Restraints, Scared Dean Winchester, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Omega Dean needs money for rent or he’s out on the street.When a stranger hands him a leaflet about a clinic paying $300 for omegas willing to participate in a scientific study,  he doesn’t really have a choice.Regardless, it turns out to be the worst decision he’s ever made.





	The Bad Decision

**Author's Note:**

> There is absolutely no hope and no comfort for Dean in this story, so if hurt, abused Dean and unhappy endings are not your thing then this story is probably not for you.

The reception area was airy, and bright.

When Dean came over to the desk, the young woman seated there gave him a welcoming smile.

“I, uh…” Dean blushed as he handed over the flyer some guy had offered him in the street, that he’d taken without thinking, the way you do, and planned to dump in the nearest trash can.

Until he actually read it.

The woman nodded, and starting typing at the computer. “Of course, we’re very happy to see you.” She picked up a clipboard, with a form attached, and handed it to Dean with a pen. “If you can just fill out all the sections, and sign your name at the bottom, one of the clinicians will come out to show you through.”

Dean took the board, and found a seat where he couldn’t been seen from outside.

He took a glance down at some of the questions on the form, and cringed.

What the hell was he doing here? Oh, that was right. He was hoping to earn $300 so he didn’t get kicked out of his apartment.

Not that he’d blame Benny and Rufus if they did; they couldn’t afford to support his freeloading ass, their words, and they pretty much had been since the garage had shut down.

It wasn’t like he could ask Sam or their dad for help either. For one thing, he didn’t know where John was to ask. And Sammy…. He was at Stanford, working hard to do what he dreamed, and probably didn’t have two spare bucks to rub together.

No. He could get himself out of this mess, or at least give himself some breathing room.

But if what came next was as embarrassing as the questions on the form?

Dean grit his teeth. It would still be worth $300 bucks and another month with a roof over his head.

He uncapped the pen, and worked his way down the list.

 _Are you of the legal age of consent_? 

Yes.

 _Are you currently in, or about to commence, heat_?

No.

 _Are you a mated Omega, or do you have family living in the city_?

Fuck. Dean squeezed the pen hard enough to nearly break it. Just because he was an omega didn’t mean he had to ask anybody’s permission for what to do with his body.

No.

The rest of the questions become increasingly more personal, but Dean answered them anyway, and then dumped the clipboard face down on the seat next to him.

All he had to do now was wait.

++

The clinician, a young reed thin guy with a name tag that read ‘Garth’ came out to get him maybe ten minutes later.

“Sorry to keep you,’ he said. “Running a little behind.”

Dean shrugged it off. “What exactly do I have to do to earn this money?” Because the leaflet hadn’t really gone into a lot of details.

“Oh, it’s just a research study,” Garth said. “We’re hoping to develop a medicine to help reduce heat-enduced anxiety in omegas. It’s a serious problem that’s under-reported in our society.”

If he said so. The anxiety Dean was feeling right now was that he wouldn’t get paid, or at least not right away.

“A one session, thing, right? And then I get the money?”

Garth used a keycard to show Dean into an office with a treatment area tacked on to it. “Absolutely. This usually takes an hour, at most, and then you can be paid and on your way.”

It almost sounded to good to be true, but Dean wasn’t in any position to doubt.

Garth took the clipboard from him, and then left him alone in the room.

Dean took the opportunity to look around. The office had no windows, which was odd, but it was the treatment bed he kept coming back to.

It had stirrups and there was no way, not even for a few hundred bucks, that Dean was getting his legs put in those.

Except he knew he would if he had to. He didn’t have a whole lot of choice.

He was touching the plastic leg supports, hoping if it had to be that they at least weren’t uncomfortable, when the door opened behind him.

The guy who came in was about Dean’s height, dark haired and wearing what Dean took to be a sharp suit beneath his lab coat.

“Mr Winchester? Dr. Ketch.” He held out his hand, and Dean shook it. “Please have a seat.”

Dean did, and Ketch sat down behind the desk.

“Did Garth explain anything about our study?”

“Just that it was some kind of treatment for anxiety.”

Ketch nodded. “I’m afraid modern medicine only seems concerned about the omega’s ability to reproduce, and little else. It’s one of the most underfunded fields of study, but a few of us are trying to change that. It’s why research programmes like this, and volunteers like yourself, are so important.”

He seemed so earnest. And, huh, volunteer. Dean felt shame tinge his cheeks, but hell, pride was expensive, and he couldn’t afford to get poked and prodded, and whatever, for nothing.

“What do I need to do?”

“Well, you’ve filled out the questionnaire,” Dr Ketch said. “There’s a blood test, and then a physical exam and you can be on your way.”

It didn’t seem enough to earn $300 but then the waiting room had been empty when he’d arrived so maybe it was hard to drum up volunteers.

Maybe a lot of omegas couldn’t get their alphas’ okay to come.

Not a problem Dean had, since the two Alphas in his family had left him.

“Mr Winchester? Dean?”

He jerked back into the room, and gave the doctor an apologetic look. “Sorry, I guess I got distracted.”

“It’s fine.” Ketch stood up, and pulled a trolly with various medical equipment on it over to where Dean sat. “I think we’ll start with the blood test, and then the exam, if you have no objections.”

Dean took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeve. For $300, he’d let this guy do pretty much whatever he had to do.

++

Ketch was nothing but professional the whole way through, doing everything he could to put Dean at his ease. 

Still, having somebody essentially play with your tits for nearly ten minutes was awkward as hell when they weren’t going to fuck you after. 

At least he didn’t have to lie back and put his legs in those stirrups, but that did kind of surprise him.

But he wasn’t complaining.

Ketch left the room after, to give Dean time to get dressed. When he came back through, he was carrying a small plastic cup of orange juice.

“Some patients get a little woozy after giving a blood sample.”

“I’m usually fine,” Dean said, but Ketch held out the cup.

“We’re responsible for your well being, as a participant,” he said. “Please, just so I know you won’t leave and then pass out.”

Dean sighed, and took the cup, draining it in one gulp. “Okay, thanks.”

He handed the cup back to Ketch, and then started for the door.

“Actually,” Ketch called after him. “There is just one more thing.”

Dean figured it wouldn’t be that easy. He turned around to see what now, if the guy wanted a sample of his piss, or what.

Ketch was moving closer to him. “You should probably sit down.”

“I thought we were done.”

But now that he noticed it, Ketch’s smile was a little off. He reached for Dean, and Dean made to slap his hand away, but he missed.

Ketch had four arms then, and two heads, and it was suddenly as if all the air had gone out of the room.

“Not quite,” Ketch said, and then Dean felt himself slump down the door, and end up in a heap at the bottom.

The last thing he saw was Ketch going to the desk and picking up the phone.

The last thing he heard was the man telling someone that ‘their latest omega was ready.’

++

Dean woke up to pain.

He jerked away on instinct, or tried to, but his body didn’t respond like it should have.

It took him a moment to realise it wasn’t his body that was the problem.

He was in restraints. 

Dean opened his eyes, frantic, and it was like the world had just picked up where it had left off, because his vision cleared to show Ketch standing right in front of him, wearing a pair of latex gloves and wielding a syringe.

A syringe he slowly drove into Dean’s other breast, causing him to gasp in agony.

“Sorry about that,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. He dumped the syringe in an orange sharps box, and then stripped off his gloves. “We usually try to take omegas closer to their heat, but there were few volunteers for our little ‘trial’. And you, Dean, were simply too tantalising a prospect to let walk out of there.”

Dean tried to fly at him, but he was buckled into some kind of frame, the metal cold against his skin, telling him he was completely naked.

“What the fuck did you do? What did you want?”

Ketch let him get it out, until he fell panting into silence.

“It’s very simple,” he said, at last. “My group of friends and I have some...unusual tastes, and the means to fulfil them.”

He stroked his fingers down the side of Dean’s breasts, still flat since his heat was weeks away yet. Circled Dean’s nipples, then brushed lightly over them.

Dean was only human, and even though he didn’t want this guy touching him, all his body knew was that it was getting some attention, and it had been a damn while.

“Responsive,” Ketch said, approvingly. “The injections will help with that, and other things.”

“Like what!”

Ketch smiled. “Oh, they won’t bring your heat on early. In a room of alphas, that would be quite a disaster. No, what they will do is fool certain of your body’s systems into thinking your heat is in full sway, and preparing your body for pregnancy. These parts of your body.”

He grabbed a handful of Dean’s breasts, and it shouldn’t have been that easy, but Dean was sure they were more swollen than before.

And it hurt.

“It’s a quick acting drug,” Ketch said. He squeezed harder, forcing a cry from Dean’s lips.

“Stop, just fucking stop!”

Ketch let him go. “My friends are coming by in about eight hours. You’ll be ready by then. I assure you, they’re all very eager to meet you.”

++

Ketch wasn’t kidding about the drug. Within two hours, during which time Ketch came, and went, studying Dean’s breasts and nodding in satisfication, a slight swell became two full on mounds.

They throbbed and ached, and they weren’t done yet. If anything, the progression got faster and more painful until Dean couldn’t hold back the tears.

He kept trying to break free from the rack (it was taller than him, all metal, and fastened ceiling to floor so he couldn’t even rock it) but it was hopeless. There was a wide leather cuff around his neck, fastened in place, and similar cuffs around his waist, thighs, and ankles, and wrists, holding those level with the ones around his thighs.

All struggling did was make him hurt, and eventually he was in too much pain to fight any more.

Ketch came back a while later, and by then he was able to heft Dean’s breasts in his hands.

“Astonishing. I must say, I’ve never seen the drug produce such powerful effects, so quickly.”

“You could let me go,” Dean said. “I won’t tell anybody, I promise, just let me go and nobody needs to know.”

Ketch sighed, and petted Dean’s cheek. “I think we both know, Dean, that won’t be possible. I promise you, we’ll take good care of you, for as long as you’re with us. Isn’t that something you want, Dean? I saw what you put on your form. You’re alone. No Omega should be left to care for themselves. That’s an alpha’s job. To be attentive to omegas.

“And I can assure you that tonight you will have receive more attention than you could ever desire.”

He went to an old table in the corner, and removed a roll of dark grey wrap. It had an plastic sheen to it, and as Ketch came closer Dean realised it was a roll of latex.

“What are you going to do with that?”

Ketch tore off a long strip and then set the roll aside. 

“Pressure will help, later,” he said, and. Dean didn’t understand, but then Ketch was wrapping the latex around his right breast, cinching it tight, covering all but his nipple and areola.

He sobbed as the pain ramped up; his breast felt crushed.

“Sssh, now,” Ketch said. “There’ll be no damage, I’ll make sure of it. The discomfort is necessary, but try not to focus on it.”

Dean tried to jerk away, tried to twist his body out of Ketch’s reach, but it didn’t stop him doling out the same treatment to his other breast.

Somewhere, Dean heard a doorbell ring.

Panic overtook him, and he started to scream.

“Help me! Somebody, help me! Please, I’m back here!”

He should have known it was no use when Ketch simply stood there and let him, made no move to shut him up.

The door to the room opened, and Garth came in. He was dressed in a black shirt and slacks, now, and he smiled approvingly at Dean before returning his attention to Ketch.

“Your guests have arrived, sir.”

“Excellent. Do show them in, Garth.”

++

There were seven of them, in all, counting Ketch, and for the first fifteen minutes or so, Dean was the sole topic of conversation and focus of their attention.

He shuddered when they touched him, holding his breasts, commencing on the swell, and asking Ketch if he had plans to market his little formula, or keep it for his own use.

Ketch chuckled. “I hardly think this would be suitable for public consumption,” he told the men. “It really only has this application; could you imagine the protests from right-thinking Alphas everywhere?”

Someone laughed, and muttered about liberals and how they were ruining the world.

And then Garth wheeled in a trolley with several glasses on it and a pitcher of ice.

Ketch picked up one of them, and came over to Dean.

“The drug’s prolonged effect means his lactation will continue at least into tomorrow, but his nipples will only product milk if say, suction is applied, or his breasts are squeezed.”

“I’d pay for the chance to suckle on those,” one of the men said, and there was more laughter.

“Not in such polite company,” Ketch said, but there was amusement in his eyes. Then he turned back to Dean, wrapped his hand around his breast, and closed his fingers.

Dean cried out at the pressure, sharp and unbearable, and then milk squirted out of his nipple and into Ketch’s glass. He kept going until his glass was nearly full, and then let go.

A few drops dribbled out after, but then it stopped.

Ketch took a sip from the glass, and nodded appreciatively. He held it up to Dean, as if toasting him, and then motioned to the other men.

“A most excellent year,” he joked. “And the bar’s open.”

++

By the time the last of them left, Dean was in more pain than he’d ever known in his life.

He could barely keep his head up; the agony of how he’d been treated during the preceding hours had drained every last ounce of strength from him.

When Ketch came back in, Garth was with him.

“You did very well, tonight, Dean. I want to thank you for that, so I brought you something to help with the pain.”

Dean groaned as Ketch removed the latex from his breasts and then rubbed some kind of gel into them. That hurt, but the throbbing slowly started to abate.

Dean stared pleadingly at him. “Can you let me go, now? Please?”

Ketch sighed. “Oh, Dean. What would you do? Go to the police? The papers?”

“Home. I’d...I’d go home.”

Ketch shook his head. He glanced at Garth, and the younger man left the room only to return a few moments later, pulling a trolley behind him.

It was holding a large vat, with some tubing and what looked like clear plastic cups with black cushioned rims.

Ketch picked up the cups, and Dean groaned as he fitted one over each breast.

Garth pressed a switch, and his breasts were pulled deeper into the cups. When Ketch let go, they stayed on. Garth helped Ketch fasten the tubes to small nozzles fitted to the cups, and then pressed another button, and the compression increased until Dean felt milk come out of his nipples in a stream. 

The cups flooded, but only for long enough for the suction to pull the milk into the tubes.

“I think it’ll take an hour or so for you to run dry,” Ketch said. “Garth will stay with you, to make sure someone’s here to turn off the tank when you’re done. And then I think a good rest is in order, so I’ll have a sedative for you after Garth is done.”

Then he was gone, and Dean looked pleadingly at the younger man.

“Can you help me? Please? I just want to get out of here. Come on, man, please. You’re not one of them.”

Garth came closer, and stared pitingly at Dean. “I know you must be scared and in pain.”

Dean nodded. “Please let me go.”

Garth reached down for the cuffs, and Dean felt the first stirrings of hope since he’d woken up to Ketch injecting him.

If Garth took off the cuffs, he could just make a run for it. Naked, barefoot, it didn’t matter.

He didn’t know where he was, but that didn’t matter either. As soon as he was out the door, he’d never let them catch him.

But Garth didn’t touch the cuffs.

He touched something else instead.

“What are you doing?”

Garth smiled. “I work very hard for Dr. Ketch. This is like one of my perks.”

He closed his hand around Dean’s dick, squeezing and tugging, until the pain there was equal to what Dean had felt before Ketch put the numbing gel on his breasts.

“You fucker,” he cursed, panting through the pain. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill both of you.”

Garth used his other hand to fondle Dean’s balls, until Dean felt them tighten up despite the pain.

“Do you think so?” Garth laughed at him. “We’ve been doing this a long time, Dean. And after you’re gone, we’ll just find another omega to take your place. Kind of harsh, I know, but...that’s just how things are.”

He squeezed Dean’s balls one last time, and Dean screamed as he came.


End file.
